


Is That Alright?

by joeriezeilany



Series: HashiMada Sand Pit [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Cunnilingus, F/M, Female Madara - Freeform, Fix-It, Genderbending, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, Tags May Change, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25753870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joeriezeilany/pseuds/joeriezeilany
Summary: “You were right.” She finally murmured.Hashirama made an inquiring noise. “About what?”“That protecting the village would lead to the protection of the people, shinobi and children.”“Aa.” Madara pulled back to look at Hashirama properly.“...do you still believe that?”Hashirama stared at her with an odd look on his face. “... of course.”ORIn which Madara came back and saves Hashirama from himself.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: HashiMada Sand Pit [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870315
Comments: 28
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! okay, I know I have other wip at the moment, but I finally got a job so I WANT TO CELEBRATE!
> 
> So yeah, this is my gift to all of you. And would mark my official entry to the 'real world' ... or Adulting. sdbfjfsjsdnfksf
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it!

Madara stared as another hideout of Zetsu was cleansed away by the flames of Amaterasu. She felt … odd. With every place she cleansed, she felt a part of herself return. For the first time in a long time, she felt free. Dealing with Zetsu and burning the hideouts felt so cathartic. Like finally disinfecting an infected wound. She looked up at the rain pouring from the night sky, closing her eyes as she took a breath, letting the droplets wash away the ash and soot. This is the last of the bases Zetsu has hidden around. 

She thought back to the years she spent in this time, the places she’s visited, The people she’s met and the various lessons they taught her. She’d been to a lot of countries, avoiding the major Shinobi Villages, but still keeping an eye out. 

She steered clear of Fire Country as a whole, because entering that country means she can’t put off going to Konoha, she feared she’d have given in to the urge to check on Hashirama.  _ That _ is something she’s not quite ready to face yet, so she’s going to do everything to stay away from there.

Despite her efforts, she knew a time would come where she could no longer run anymore. Already rumors of war were picking up, this time countries against countries, villages versus villages and she knew a war on such a scale would be devastating. Add to that the rumors she’s been hearing about him which was worrying in of itself. The last straw was when she heard that Hashirama had stepped down from the Kage’s seat and passed it on to Tobirama  _ just as war was about to break loose, right when the village needed him most. _

So, in the end with great unease, Madara set course for Konoha, a leaden weight weighing heavily on her chest and mind swirling with uncertainty.

* * *

Slipping inside Konoha was a breeze. The security hadn’t changed, the village still following the same system she had helped create long ago. The layout is different though, improved, more organized, cleaner. There were a lot more people too. She can identify members of newer different clans invited in. 

It was surreal walking in this Konoha. Madara never thought she’d ever step foot in here again. Even in the future she never did return after she had left, even going so far as to announce herself by riding the Kyuubi so Hashirama had ample time to be warned and meet her outside the village. But now, she’s sitting here in a tea shop idly watching the comings and goings of the people. The normality of her surroundings clashed with the strangeness of her situation, she found herself feeling more disjointed by the minute, as though she was having an out of body experience. 

Sighing, Madara finishes her tea and decides to continue roaming around the village. She hopes the walk would help clear her mind and dislodge the weight burrowing in her chest. Because despite the normality the village presents, there is one thing  _ not normal _ with all of this.

_ Hashirama was nowhere to be seen. _

That alone was enough to tell her that something was amiss. Hashirama  _ loves _ to walk around the village, interacting with his people, talking to them, helping them. Even forsaking the paperwork attached to being a leader of the village just so he could have a few more hours to be amongst his people, to hear what they had to say.

But now? There was hardly any talk about him. Madara could remember a time where anywhere she turned there would be mentions of him all around. Including in her own clan. Hashirama is a people person, he could command a crowd’s attention effortlessly. So, all of this feels  _ wrong. _ However, most worrying of all, she’s been able to sense Hashirama since she stepped foot inside but his chakra is … sluggish  _ and he’s been stationary this whole time. _

* * *

Madara figures a few days is enough time to dither. Enough is enough. She’s antsy to see Hashirama, she doesn’t quite like the feeling of wrongness that’s settled in her chest. Hashirama always had that sixth sense when it came to her. It had always been like that, and for her to be here for  _ four _ days and neither hide nor hair of Hashirama anywhere close to her was  _ worrying _ . It was especially so when she can clearly sense him within the village  _ and he’s hardly moved from his position _ .

Sneaking to Hashirama’s bedroom was shockingly easy. It was still the same room as before, the same things, the same layout, the same furniture, the same wards  _ which she’s still keyed in _ .

Madara internally frowned at the lack of new security as she ghosted in. Forgetting for a moment that she had a hand in the making of the wards surrounding this room, since Hashirama had the habit of dragging her here before and so the wards should be on par with her paranoia. There was also a shocking lack of Mito anywhere. 

Approaching the futon, Madara took in Hashirama’s still form. From his gaunt face, his eyes heavy with bags, to his thin wrists. With each feature her eyes registered, her heart sank lower and lower. It certainly explained why she barely sensed Hashirama moving from this room.

_ What happened? What reduced the all mighty man she knew to this?  _

She folded herself quietly by his side, horrified at what met her eyes. Confusion swimming in her head because  _ why? Why is Hashirama like this? _

Madara kept herself as still as she could, barely breathing, afraid to make a noise, to even touch Hashirama in fear of … what? Breaking him? Waking him? She doesn’t quite know which would be worse. She’s not ready for this.

She sat there for who knows how long, just … staring at Hashirama. Coming to terms with what she’s seeing, constantly comparing it to what her mind remembers. Frantically going over what little news or rumors she had heard, sifting through it all, trying to figure out  _ what caused this?  _

The urge to touch him was overwhelming, she wrestled with herself, unsure if she was still allowed to  _ touch _ him because, surely after everything she had done, she doesn't deserve to be near him let alone touch him.

Finally, having lost the battle within herself, Madara reached for Hashirama, tracing his face with featherlike strokes, brushing away the stray hairs from his face. All the while holding back the tears of her weeping heart, her chest felt so tight, she struggled to breathe.

Silent tears leaked from her eyes dripping down her face, all the way down to Hashirama’s shoulders. Madara shook from the force of her heartbreak. Here was the man she had failed so long ago, and now it seems like she was failing him again. It felt like someone stabbed her heart all over again.

* * *

Sometime between Madara’s arrival and this moment, Hashirama woke up. Seems like Madara forgot another detail about Hashirama. He was a light sleeper. Born from the warring state era where you have to be able to get up in a snap because you’re not quite sure when you’d be attacked again. Back when he still had three younger brothers to look after, constantly hyper vigilant of their positions and waking up at the slightest shift, fearful that something had happened to them while he was asleep.

Hashirama woke up the moment Madara crossed the wards. He would know that chakra anywhere. His heart and his head was screaming.  _ She’s alive? Madara’s alive? _

He kept his eyes closed, convincing himself that no, it’s not a dream. That it really  _ is  _ Madara because his heart is screaming her name. Beating so loud he’s afraid it would beat  _ out of him _ . But he  _ knew _ in his head that she’s  _ dead _ . That  _ he _ was the one that dealt the killing blow,  _ and oh, how much he regrets. _

Hashirama felt it when she folded herself beside him. His whole body aching to touch her, to open his eyes,  _ to see her, to please, let this be real. Let it be true, please, oh heavens please. _

When she touched him so reverently, it broke his control, he  _ needed  _ to see her, to speak to her, _ just this once. _ To prove to himself that this is real. That she’s alive.  _ Please _ . 

And so he opened his eyes and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, saw her. Madara. Head bowed and face contorted with anguish. Droplets of tears which fell on his neck trailed down to his shoulder, he couldn’t help but to reach out to her, to wipe away those tears because this wasn’t how Madara was supposed to look, tears have no place on her face, for she always looked better with a smile on her face, that smile which was his and his alone. Hashirama was the crybaby, not Madara. Never Madara.

* * *

Madara startled when she felt the hand that cupped her face. Looking wide eyed at Hashirama, she didn’t expect him to be awake. She stifled a sob, and then lunged at him. Holding him and sobbing at his neck. The words ‘I’m sorry’ constantly spewing from her lips, choked with the sobs raking over her body. 

Hashirama just held her in a surprisingly strong yet gentle grip. “You’re alive.” he whispered. “How?” He was running his hands through her hair  _ and oh, how he missed this, the feel of her rugged hair that always somehow managed to feel as soft as silk. _

“Does it matter?” She managed through the tears, still stubborn to a fault, she couldn’t quite tell Hashirama the truth.

Hashirama just hummed, mouth pressed on the pulse on her neck. Shifting enough so he can pull her to lay cuddled atop of him. Never once releasing her from his embrace. 

Madara all but melted at the feel of his warmth, words couldn’t begin to describe how much she had missed this. Hashirama’s warmth, the way he could always just mould himself around her. How she could just disappear in his arms in the rare moments she allowed herself to. The way they just  _ fit _ together. 

She’s not quite sure how long they remained like that. In each others’ embrace, feeling the closest pulse point. Just basking in the moment. Content.

“You were right.” She finally murmured.

Hashirama made an inquiring noise. “About what?”

“That protecting the village would lead to the protection of the people, shinobi and children.”

“Aa.” Madara pulled back to look at Hashirama properly.

“...do you still believe that?” 

Hashirama stared at her with an odd look on his face. “... of course.”

“Why did you step down then?” Madara asked, because this is something that has plagued her mind since she heard about it. “Rumors of war are breaking out, and then you passed the position to Tobirama just when the village would need you most.”

“... the village would survive without me.” Hashirama said after a beat. “I have given them the tools, everything that they’d need. Besides, I believe Tobirama would make a great Hokage.”

Madara looked down and settled atop him once more, this time Hashirama resting on the crook of her neck, her nose pressed on the hair above his ear. She could feel Hashirama playing with the tips of her hair.

“Madara…?”

“I suppose so.” She said slowly, voice low with reluctance. “Your brother certainly had enough ideas back then.” Hashirama chuckled. 

“... i’m sorry for what I made you do.” Madara said after a while. “Back then, at the Valley. I just- I-” she swallowed, the words lodged in her throat, refusing to come out.

Madara could feel the smile that formed on Hashirama’s lips. “Don’t worry about it.” he said angling his face so his lips would touch her ear, “It’s over. It has been a decade, Madara. I had a lot of time to think and while I still think it was the right thing to do at the time, I- … I regret that it all ended up the way it did.” Hashirama took a deep breath, nose pressed on her skin. “I’m just glad you’re alive. That you survived. That you still decided to come here. To see me.”

Madara shivered from how close Hashirama is. The suffusing warmth that radiated from him, the way he spoke against her skin. The way his scent permeates her senses. It made her question why she had kept her distance from him to start with, if his presence was this all encompassing. 

“I need to tell you something.” she whispered in the quiet that had followed in the wake of their embrace. When she felt Hashirama tilt his head, she pulled back to look at him properly. She wanted to say it to his face, to see his  ~~ damnation ~~ reaction.

“I-” she swallowed, the words caught in her throat. Why is it so hard to say it? 

“At first I thought it was a dream,” She said instead, looking down. She can’t quite look Hashirama in the eyes. “After everything that happened, everything that I've done, I came to terms with the fact that when I closed my eyes that day, it would be over. That it would be the end.” She looked up straight to Hashirama, her chest was an anchor lost amidst the pools of sorrow swelling in her heart. “I- I didn’t expect to wake up again, back here. Not- not after our fight in the Valley, when I used Izanagi for the first time. Not back here where you’re still alive ... where you hate me. I didn’t expect a second chance. No, I didn’t _ deserve _ a second chance.”

As the words flowed past her mouth, the tears began to flow alongside them, her head bowed down with the weight of her past mistakes., Hashirama noticed. He reached up to cup her wet face and wiped away those tears. Mulling over what Madara just said. Time travel? And Izanagi? The first time? Does that mean she used it again? 

The prolonged silence rang ever loudly in her mind. She felt like her heart dropping with each second passing by in complete silence. Various thoughts flitted to her mind. What is Hashirama thinking? Does he hate her still? What would he do?  _ What happens now? _

“Say something, Hashirama.” She implored, her quiet voice spoke with anticipation. “Anything.”

Hashirama blinked, “I don’t know what you want me to say.” He brushed away the fresh tears falling from her eyes, smiling helplessly. “Time travel? I’d be disbelieving, but Tobirama can summon the dead, it’s hard to dispute anything as impossible as time travel when I have already seen the dead brought back to life.” 

Hashirama leaned closer and connected their foreheads. “I do not know what you have done in the future, but I  _ never _ want to hear you say that you don’t deserve anything ever again. Everyone deserves a second chance Madara. No matter what they have done.”

Madara shook as she sobbed ‘I’m Sorry’s’ over and over again. Hashirama just held her tight and kissed away her tears.

“You have been given a second chance, Madara. Don’t waste it.” He pulled back a little to look her in the eyes, there was something lurking in his eyes, a flickering emotion Madara can’t quite pinpoint. “You knew what you did before, you have the advantage of knowing the outcome of the future. Use it wisely. Learn from your mistakes.” 

Madara just stared wide eyed at Hashirama. There was a finality in the tone of his voice. Something, like he’s telling her this because he wouldn’t … be …  _ here. Oh.  _ She blinked as she took his appearance again, this time having an inkling as to  _ why _ Hashirama was like this. 

“You-” Lips trembling, Madara leaned closer to touch Hashirama’s cheeks. “Why- why are you saying goodbye?” She looked at his face for any tells with wide searching eyes, face twisting with pained confusion. “Why are you-  _ why are you telling me this as if you wouldn’t be here? _ As if you’re  _ dying _ and you’re- you’re telling me that you’re leaving me your legacy? Why-  _ why, Hashirama? _ I don’t understand.”

There was a pause before Hashirama wiped her tears again. “You’ve cried more times this evening than the entire time I've known you, Madara. I’m the crybaby, remember?”

“Stop changing the topic, Senju.” Madara swatted his arm. “ _ Why? _ ”

Hashirama smiled sadly, tucking stray hairs around her ears before resting his hand on her cheeks. “I can’t do it anymore.” he smiled helplessly. “I know it’s a cowardly thing to do, but, I gave up.”

“It’s been more than ten years, Madara. Almost twenty since we built the village. That’s a long time, enough for me to  _ think,  _ to come to terms with  _ why _ exactly I-  _ we _ built this village.” There were silent tears leaking from his eyes. “I imagine history will say that we built this village to stop wars. To create a safe haven for the children. To have a modicum of control over the death toll. But that’s not it. While it  _ is _ a part of it,  _ that’s not the reason why I chased you for the better part of a decade for peace. _ ”

Hashirama leaned closer, wanting to be closer to Madara. He’d never voiced this out loud before, only thinking on the safety of his thoughts. But here, now, he  _ ached _ to tell Madara. To make her understand, to spill his innermost thoughts. They’ve shied away from sentiments enough. 

“But it’s not.  _ It’s not. _ ” 

“I didn’t build the village for all of that. Not for my clan, not for my brother, or the future,  _ not even for my children _ . Not for the future generations, no.  _ No. _ ” Hashirama stared at her intensely. “ _ It was for you. _ I built it for  _ you. _ So we can live together. So we never had to meet behind the clans’ back ever again.  _ Because I wanted them to see us together. _ To see that there’s nothing  _ wrong  _ with it.  _ To prove them wrong _ . Because I just …  _ wanted. _ ” 

“Hashirama-” 

“But then I thought,” Hashirama cut her off. “If I could raise my own blade to you,  _ kill you, _ when I never had before, not even when we were at the height of the wars,  _ what even is the point of everything? _ What’s the point of trying? Of continuing  _ when you’re not here by my side? _ ” 

Madara had something to say to that. “I deserved it. What I did-”

“NO.” Hashirama almost thundered as he cut her off. “No, I-  _ Don’t. _ ” His grip on her tightening. “Don’t. Just…  _ don’t _ ”

“I tried, Madara,” his grip on her arms loosened as he slumped. His next words came out defeated and quiet. “ _ I did. _ After you died, I tried.  _ So hard. _ For our dream, for our memory.  _ For you. _ ”

Madara wrapped her arms around him and sobbed. She can’t- this is just too much. She never expected this when she decided to check on Hashirama. Never expected to hear this  _ from him _ . She’d come to terms with everything. And this night just keeps on opening what she thought was already healed wounds.  _ It was too much all at once _ .

“I did.” Hashirama continued as he tucked her head beneath his chin. “But there comes a time where everything catches up to you. Times when  _ it was all too much _ and I’m running out of options, of ideas, I found myself turning and looking for you,  _ but you’re not there anymore. _ And I was again confronted by the fact that it was  _ my fault _ that you’re gone. And I got so  _ tired. _ I can’t do this alone. I needed you. And so I gave up.” 

“Do you think I would’ve wanted you to give up?” Madara asked, disbelievingly. 

“No. Heavens, no!” Hashirama laughed breathily. “But giving up means I get to see you again. So maybe dying wouldn’t be too bad.  _ Because you’d be there. _ And I wouldn’t be  _ alone _ anymore.”

“Well I’m here now, aren’t I?” Madara hiccuped. She can’t remember the last time she cried this hard. “You can’t give up now. I’m right here. What’s the point of coming back if you’re just going to give up and leave me here all alone?” 

“Well, I can’t disagree with that, can I?” Hashirama murmured as he pressed his lips to her head. 

Madara looked up and lifted her head. “If you gave up on the village, it wouldn’t be that hard for you to come with me, right? When I leave, would you come with me? We could start all over again, together. Away from everything. Find ourselves, who we really are. Without the clans, without the duties and responsibilities that came with it, without the scrutiny of the people. Just … us.”

_ “Will you come with me?” _

Hashirama had forgotten the fact that when faced with Madara’s gaze like this, he could never say no. He would follow Madara anywhere and  _ oh. _ Had Madara asked him to come with her back then and leave, he thinks now, he would’ve come with her. He could never deny her anything like this. 

And so, Hashirama leaned in and gave in to one thing he had wanted to do since the moment he realized Madara is a gift from the divine. He kissed her. Softly at first, savoring the feel of her lips against his own, deepening the kiss as he explored her mouth. She tastes even better than what he imagined. Skin so soft as if it never had to weather the harsh life that they have, the heavenly smell that wafted from it. 

He can’t help but pull her closer and trail his hands through her hair, down her back and resting on her hips. He can’t quite resist exploring every curve and crease of her body as she rested atop him, his mind supplying, not for the first time, images of what Madara looks like without clothes. Pulling up only to take a much needed breath, as he leaned his forehead against Madara’s. 

“In case that wasn’t clear,  _ yes. _ I’ll come with you.” Hashirama told a wide eyed Madara. “I’d follow you anywhere, Madara.  _ I love you. _ ”

Madara was thrown back to the time where Obito snarked at her about her obsession with Hashirama. And  _ oh. _ “Obito was right.” She huffed out a laugh. “I do love you, you stupid tree man.” 

They kissed again. This time it was Madara that led. Curiously exploring Hashirama’s mouth, caressing the side of his head down to his neck. Stopping only when she noticed the swell of chakra gathering on Hashirama. “What are you doing?”

Hashirama pulled her up and kicked down the covers, he then lifted her up and positioned her legs, shifting them so she was straddling him instead of lying on him. Reaching up to thread one of his hands on the back of her neck, guiding her down as he began to kiss her again, the other sliding down the side of her hip to her ass. “Sage Chakra.” He whispered in her mouth, lips trailing open mouthed kisses down to her neck. “If I am going with you, I’d need to restore my body to keep up.” he smiled breathily. “The fact that I lost my breath not too long at that kiss was unacceptable.” Then he proceeded to latch on a section of her neck that made her head arch her back and let out a quiet moan. Head tilting instinctively to give better access. 

Hearing that sound coming from Madara makes Hashirama automatically thrust upwards and bury his face on the junction of her neck. Hips bucking up before he could even think about it, needing that pressure. Dear heavens, if he knew it was going to be like this, then maybe he should’ve gone with his first instinct of grabbing Madara and kissing her every time they fight. 

Madara panted when she felt Hashirama move. That was definitely the outline of the man’s hardening cock right  _ there,  _ pressing to her crotch, creating friction against her clit. She doesn’t quite know what to do other than try to breathe as evenly as she could and hold in the moans threatening to rip out of her throat. It became all the more intense as Hashirama tightened his hold on her hip and began to guide her into grinding on him. 

When she looked up to Hashirama, she found him staring at her intensely. “Is this okay?” 

“Definitely.” she breathed out. “Just … I have never done this before. And I-” she was cut off by Hashirama laughing softly and leaning over to snuggle against her.

“You always worry so much.” A smile was tugging at his lips. “You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.” Hashirama assured her, pecking her lips. She could definitely see the crease at the corner of his eyes from the laugh that he’s holding back though.

“Stop laughing at me.” Madara swatted him, pouting. 

Hashirama chuckled. “So, are we good?” 

She made a face and then Hashirama was suddenly on her lips, kissing her roughly while guiding her hip to make a rhythm with his thrusts. Madara braced her arms on the futon and buried her face on Hashirama’s shoulder. She can feel Hashirama nibbling on her neck, while his hands roam across her back. One hand fiddling with the sash of her yukata, the other slipping inside with feather light touches as he explored her body. 

“Up.” Hashirama said roughly. Hands moving to one curve of her hip and the other under her armpit as if to physically lift her. 

Madara complied and eased back, only for Hashirama’s hands to stop her. Questing hands mapping out her chest. Tugging and pushing off her yukata until it slowly slides down and pools at her forearm, exposing her bound chest. Hashirama had seen her naked before, they used to go to hot springs or take a dip by a river together but somehow this is different. The way Hashirama was looking at her with an intense look in his eyes is making her body heat up. Madara has the intense urge to cover up herself. 

“What?” she said, consciously tugging at her yukata.

Hashirama hummed, reaching over to position her hand palm down on either side thus having the yukata slide all the way down, obscuring her hands and revealing everything. The intense fascinated look on his eyes made heat pool on her gut. Madara’s quite sure she’s bright red right now, the whispered  _ beautiful _ didn’t help matters.

Hashirama then proceeded to yank down the bindings from her chest, not giving her time to protest as he latched on a nipple. Tongue swirling around the puckering nib, one of his hands kneading the other breast and  _ oh, dear Amaterasu. _

* * *

Hashirama knew that maybe he was going too fast but,  _ heavens, _ he couldn’t resist. Madara is right here, all too tangible under his touch, reacting so beautifully, so irresistible that he just couldn’t help it. He was a goner and now that he has a taste of her, never would he be content with anyone other than Madara. He would never be able to stop now, not unless she says so, but , _ oh heavens have mercy on his soul _ , he loves this woman with all his being. 

He had never looked at Madara and thought  _ soft _ before. She had always been the more battle hardened one between them. Always standing so tall, commanding presence effortlessly grabbing the attention of everyone wherever she goes. But here and now, beneath his touch, allowing him to explore her body, he couldn’t help but notice how  _ soft _ it was. The way it moved and responded to his touch, all too eager on it’s own.

Light scarring scattered across her body, telling the tales of her battles to him. He could recognize a lot of it, most notably the one running just above her left chest, atop her heart. He moved to trace that one with his lips, among all the scars he’d given her, he regretted that one the most. 

Hashirama moved back and took in all of Madara. Her wide eyed look, her dilated pupils, the way her hair frames her face and tumbles on her back. He could almost hear something in him snap. His resolve maybe, because now, he just wanted to see her spread out. He wanted to see all of her, so hell.  _ He will. _

Reaching up to hold the back of her neck, he nibbled on her neck and simultaneously flipped them so he would be the one on top. He couldn’t help but grind to her even more, the reversed position giving more friction. The sounds coming from Madara are doing him in,  _ dear gods he wants her so bad. _

“H-Hashirama…” Madara whispered his name like one would worship a god. 

This is maddening in a lot of ways. Hashirama unceremoniously ripped off her clothes, deeming them unnecessary. Leaving Madara all but bare to him, only a thin piece of cloth prevented him from seeing all of her. 

He sat back and admired the way Madara was lying in front of him. Head thrown back with her hair fanning out on the sheets, bruises starting to form around her neck. Hashirama suddenly felt too hot, his clothes becoming a stifling barrier between what he wanted. He yanked his shirt off of him and kicked away his uncomfortably tight pants.

Sage marking appeared on his face as the Sage Chakra was doing it’s job restoring his body. Leaning over Madara as she tracked down what he’s doing. Trailing soft kisses from her mouth down to her neck, lingering over the forming bruises. Paying special attention to places Madara reacts strongly to. Her breast fits just right on his palm as he kneaded it and played with the nipple. Lavishing attention to both breasts before continuing his journey downwards. 

A slight trail of saliva appearing on her toned stomach as he continued with the wet kisses. Dipping his tongue briefly in her navel, before travelling lower. Hashirama could feel Madara’s stuttering breaths as he got closer and closer to her cunt. He felt one of her hands resting on top of his head, tangling with his hair and  _ gods _ he needed a moment before he just took her right then and there.

Hashirama looked up to see a pair of swirling Sharingan capturing the moment. Blinking innocently before sitting back and grabbing one of Madara’s legs. Smirking at the widening eyes, he slowly kissed his way down. From her knee, dragging his lips down to her inner thigh, feeling slight tremors as he gets closer to the apex of her legs. Bending down to murmur sweet nonsense at the edge of her underwear, he settled his hands underneath her ass, lifting her a little as he mouthed along her clothed pussy. 

Madara’s hand made a reappearance as he nosed his way between her thighs. She lets out a breathy moan as he dragged the flat of his tongue over the damp cloth.  _ Heavens have mercy on him,  _ he’s on cloud nine. Her scent permeates the air as he breathes in, he could feel his cock straining to escape through his fundoshi. She pushed back, moaning out loud as his mouth found her clit, so he continued his way, licking and sucking through her underwear until it’s completely soaked from them both.

“ _ Oh gods, Hashirama. _ ” Madara repeats like a mantra. “ _ Please. _ ”

That did him in. Hashirama used his teeth to drag her underwear up her legs, spitting them to the side. And then he’s back between her legs, kissing them like he would her mouth. Dragging his tongue across the folds, spreading her open and sampling her taste. He was right, she tastes  _ divine _ . Truly a gift from the divine. He finds himself intoxicated and diving for more. 

“Don’t stop.” Madara suddenly said. Legs tightening around him. “ _ Please don’t stop. Oh gods, please. _ ”

Her pleading was music to his ears, the tightening hold on his hair just spurning him on. He wants her to come. He wants to taste all of her.  _ He needs to. _

“ _ Yes please, oh gods please. _ ” Madara sobs out. One feet planted on the futon, the other pushing against his sides. “ _ Don’t stop, don’t stop, don't stop don't stop don't stop pleaseee _ ” 

Hashirama felt more than heard as she orgasms. Her legs tightening around him, her pussy pulsing on his mouth, her back arching as she produced a keening noise. He eased back as she came down from her high, moving back up to press light kisses around her jaw.

“How was that?” Hashirama asked. Idly nosing around her neck.

“You fucking Senju.” Madara rasped out, making him laugh. 

“Was it that bad?” He moved to brace one of his arms beside her head. Madara opened her eyes to reveal the still activated Sharingan. 

Madara hiccuped a little before snarking, “Did I tell you to stop?”

He let out a snort. “Always so demanding, Madara.”

She sniffed before reaching out to tuck away his hair. “You don’t look as shitty anymore.”

“... does it mean I still look shitty?”

“... yes.”

Hashirama huffed out a laugh. “There’s no pleasing you, I swear.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TA DAHHH! here is another chapter you guys! It's been prepared for a few days but I was busy so I only got to post it now. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> PS: THANK YOU SO MUCH TO MY BETAS KJSDFSDJFNKSDNF I'D DIE WITHOUT YOU GUYS <3<3<3

Hashirama trailed his fingers across her face with featherlight strokes, almost reverently. 

"What?" Madara asked sleepily, trying to pry her eyes, heavy with drowsiness, open. Their delightful throes of passion having taken its toll on her. 

"You haven't aged a day." he murmured admiringly, still mapping out her features. 

She finally managed to open her eyes and lazily regarded Hashirama. The Sage markings were still present on his face, their long sweeping lines framing his soft eyes. He looked better, more filled out, closer now to the Hashirama of her memories. She couldn't help the scoff that escaped her. "That's rich, coming from you." 

Hashirama chuckled because she was right. While the Sage chakra was doing wonders to his body right now, he'd noticed long ago that he had hardly aged since reaching maturity. Vitality flowed within his veins, courtesy of the Mokuton. The only reason why hardly anyone noticed is because he had managed to cover his agelessness with palpable exhaustion. Giving up means letting go, just… letting his body deteriorate, his chakra always responding to his will. 

"I know why I hardly aged," he mused, fingers delicately trailing down to her neck. "That's why I'm asking about yours." 

"... Izanagi returns your body to it's prime condition." Madara finally murmured, hesitant, as if afraid of voicing it outloud. "It reverses everything. It was a kinjutsu of my clan; an incredibly powerful genjutsu that was classed as forbidden for it's steep cost."

"And what was its cost?" 

"Your eye." Madara said intensely. "Izanagi was so powerful, it completely blinds the eye used to activate it. Activating the Rinnegan was the only way to regain your sight." 

Hashirama looked at her curiously, still propped atop her on an elbow. "Rinnegan? I thought that was a mere legend?" 

Madara shrugged as best as she could, given her confined position under Hashirama. "Well, yes, I suppose so." Her lips pulled into a hesitant smile. "But I’ve come to realise that legends are lessons, they ring with truth…especially if you let them come to life before your very eyes.”

Hashirama blinked at her, stunned for a moment at the implications of her words. "You have it? Is that why you have both of your eyes?" 

"Hm, actually no." She admitted, because this is one thing that still boggles her mind. "I do not have the Rinnegan right now, since I have not met the needed conditions to activate it. I am still confused as to why I have both my eyes though. I lost one of them the first time around. This time, I woke up with both of them present. I do have some thoughts as to why though."

"Let's hear it then." Hashirama spoke with open curiosity.

Madara raised an eyebrow before settling into a more comfortable position. "... As I have told you before, I came from the future. A future in which I committed countless atrocities, leading the world to set itself ablaze with the fires of conflict...three separate wars ravaging the world in just 50 years-”

"Three?" Hashirama cut her off, rearing back with shock. "So it  _ would _ happen, the rumors of war-?" 

"... Yes." Madara regarded Hashirama silently, mind wrestling over whether or not to tell him, finally deciding he deserved to know. "You died at the start of the first one." She paused as her heart clenched at the memory, the haunting image that still scars her mind. “...I saw it happen myself.” the melancholic words whispered past her frowning lips.

There was a moment of silence. Hashirama settled back on his back, silently staring at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression, still failing to process all that he had heard. The longer Hashirama stayed quiet, the more her heart clenched in her chest, discomfort churning deep inside of it. She turned on her side so she could look at Hashirama properly. 

After what felt like an eternity of stifling silence, it finally gave way, "I suppose it wasn't exactly a charming sight?" Hashirama asked wryly. Turning on his side to look at her properly, resuming his featherlight strokes.

"I never want to see you like that again. So long as I live, Hashirama." Madara said steadfastly through the memories’ aged aches piercing her. Hashirama kneeling on the muddy torn ground; blood staining his lips, body riddled with countless swords, head thrown back gazing blankly up at the sky, as if waiting or looking for something. 

"That sight will forever be branded in my mind," she continued, "but I will do everything in my power to prevent that from ever happening again."

Hashirama ran his hand across her back, anchoring her with his warmth to the present. Madara let out a shuddering breath, pressing herself closer, engulfing herself in his very being, pressing her nose to his neck, feeling for that pulse point. Needing the steady beat to further assure herself that no, Hashirama's not dead. He's here, beside her,  _ holding  _ her. Not there, not  _ dead.  _

Hashirama moved to further enclose his arms around her, firmly tucking her head beneath his chin. "You're  _ here _ , Madara.  _ I'm _ here. You came back,  _ it didn't happen. _ "

“But it did happen.” Madara murmured low, voice cracking with the weight of past heartbreak. “To me it did. And that’s why seeing you earlier was so painful for me.” she moved her head to press her lips to his jaw. “Please, don’t leave me again.”

* * *

Hashirama took a deep breath, breathing in her scent. He knew too well how Madara must’ve felt. It was the same for him, seeing Madara’s deathly still form, face down on the Valley. It had broken something deep inside of him. 

He tightened his arms around Madara as suppressed memories threatened to drown his mind. The feel of her blood on his hand, dripping down from his sword. The way she fell to her knees, the empty gaze of her face, twisted with shock, piercing his own as she fell face first on the muddy ground with a resounding splash. 

_ “Please, Hashirama.” _

“Never.” He vowed to her. This time they would be together. Even if the world itself would be against them, Hashirama knew as long as he had Madara by his side he could take anything head on. Together they were invincible. Forever if they have to.

Hashirama looked down to gently kiss Madara, from her temples, to her nose, to the few tears that had slipped past her cheeks and finally her lips. Their innocently delicate kiss deepening with desperate desire, lips locked in snarling passion, all lips, tongue and teeth. Making his way down to her inviting neck, paying special attention to the bruises already marking it. Madara’s stifled moans music to his ears. He couldn’t help biting down, marking her, to show the whole world that she was his.

“You’re mine, Madara.” He whispered to her heatedly. The words whispered with deafening hunger into her ears. “ _ Mine. _ ”

“Oh gods, Hashirama.” Madara said reverently. Legs hiking up to hook around his strong hips. “Yes.”

“Say it,” Hashirama continued to whisper, grinding their hips together. “Tell me what you want.”

Madara looked up at him. Sharingan once again capturing every moment. “I want you, Hashirama.  _ All of you. _ ” her words slipped past her lips like a desperate prayer.

Hearing those words coming from that sinful mouth, Hashirama gave in to his broiling desire burning deep inside of him. He shifted and feasted upon her. Hands moving to cup her breasts, kneading them softly while pressing his face in between. Madara’s hands moved to grip his head as he proceeded to pay special attention to one nipple, lightly nipping and rolling his tongue around it. His free hand moving down to roam across her toned stomach down to her firm ass, firmly holding her down.

“Not yet, Madara.” Hashirama murmurs. “Be patient.”

“Fuck off, Senju.” Madara groaned. “Just get on with it, damn it.  _ Please. _ ”

Hashirama moved up a bit to reach back and slip out of his fundoshi. All the while holding eye contact with Madara. She really was too impatient for her own good.

He moved down so he would be once again in between her legs, he couldn't get enough of her. He nuzzles her wet cunt, tongue slowly exploring her folds. He gripped her thighs with both hands, as he dipped his tongue over her little hole. Then moving up again, spreading her own tight wetness. He smacked his lips,  _ oh she really does taste divine _ .

Hashirama moved her legs over his shoulder, maneuvering his hand so he could wet them and stroked her with excruciating slowness. Madara made a noise, a mix between a screech and a moan, as he sunk in a finger inside her. He moved closer and reclaimed that swollen little nub in his mouth. Sucking and rolling his tongue around it. Again and again, his finger furiously going in and out until Madara’s nothing but a whimpering mess. Dear heavens,  _ he wants her now. _

He sat up properly after a while and knelt between her thighs, one hand bracing himself as the other moved inside her. One finger, then two. Madara keens and rocks against him, head thrown back in ecstasy. He thinks he could watch this for eternity, Madara being undone before him. He moved up to capture her lips in a sensual kiss.

“Hashirama…” Madara breathed, hand tangling with his hair as she clung to him. “ _ Please. _ ”

Hashirama hummed and shifted as he teasingly inserted a third finger. “Yes? What do you want, Madara?” 

“You. I want you, Hashirama.” Madara moaned out as he curled his fingers inside her. “Please, please, please,  _ please _ .”

“You beg so nicely, Madara.” Hashirama said, voice an octave lower as he moved back and removed his fingers. Looking her straight to the eyes, he reached down and positioned himself. 

“This is going to hurt a little.” he said, kissing her softly. He made a few strokes to spread her wetness on his cock before aligning it on her.

Hashirama entered her agonizingly slow, thrusting shallowly to get her used to his girth. On and on until he’s seated firmly inside her. She was so slick and warm and  _ tight. _ He swallowed thickly, fighting every instinct that’s telling him to  _ move faster _ and  _ deeper,  _ bury himself as deep as he could in that warmth. 

“Is this okay?” He asked her, nuzzling her neck.

Madara let out a shaky breath. Legs hiking up to hook over his hips. “Move, damn it. Don’t stop.”

“So, demanding, my love.” 

Hashirama reached down to hold her hand, then pinned them up above her. Deepening his thrusts, going faster and faster until he’s ramming to her mindlessly. He held one of her legs down for some leverage.

There was no need for words afterwards, just sounds of them shifting and the slick wet sounds of every thrust. Hashirama encouraged Madara to meet him halfway, whispering sweet nothings to her ear.

Madara trashed under him, sobbing out a mantra of  _ yes _ and  _ please _ and  _ right there _ . Hashirama watched, fascinated as Madara became undone around him. He wouldn’t be able to stop even if he wanted to. 

“Hashirama..” Madara gasped as her hips helplessly met his every thrust. He could feel it, she was so close. “ _ Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Please.” _

Hashirama shifted and snaked his free hand between her legs, rubbing small circles on her clit. Madara cried out in relief, high pitched noises coming from her. Her thighs started to quiver and her breaths coming in shallowly. His fingers moved faster but he kept his pace with his thrusts. 

“That’s it, my love.” Hashirama whispered, kissing Madara’s neck. “You’re close… that’s it.” he continued murmuring as Madara's head fell back as her body succumbed to its climax. 

Hashirama gripped her hip and kept pace, thrusting and riding it out. Her pulsing heat surrounds him, tightening and milking him for everything that he’s worth. And he let her arms go, hiking her legs high up against his hip and driving into her as deep as he can go as he came. 

Madara wrapped her arms around him, sobbing at the intensity of it all. Sharp nails scratched on his back, as she took in all of him. Hashirama trembled as he controlled the urge to pound into her some more as she took the released spurt after spurt of cum deep inside her. 

* * *

They were still for a moment, both breathing heavily, the scent of their passion still lingering within the air. Basking in that post-coital bliss, both content to just stay as they are.

“How was that?” Hashirama asked, teasingly as he slowly pulled out. 

Madara made a face. “That bad, huh?” 

“Oh, shut up.” She swatted his arm. “It was great.” She whispered abashedly, a soft blush blooming on her face. 

Hashirama snickered, settling down behind her. “What’s next?”

“Hm?” 

“You asked me earlier if I wanted to come with you when you leave.” Hashirama said, wrapping his arms around her and tucking his chin on the conjecture of her neck.

“Ah, yes.” Madara hummed. “We’d need to prepare supplies. I don’t think I can walk properly right now though.” Hashirama laughed quietly as she swatted his arm. “Don’t laugh, my legs are so sore.”

“More like your-”

“Hashirama!” Madara cut him off, the pinkness of her soft blush reddened with embarrassment.

“Alright, alright.” Hashirama snickered. “I’ll go collect basic supplies we’d need.”

Madara pouted at him. “How have you already recovered already?” voice keening with exasperation.

“Still running Sage Chakra, darling.” Hashirama pecked her lips, smirking down with fondness. “It has its perks.”

* * *

Madara covered her burning face with both hands after Hashirama left. She couldn’t believe she had done  _ that _ with Hashirama. Her first time seeing him in years, and the first thing they had done was fuck like horny teenagers. She huffed at herself, turning over to pull the comforter up, only pausing when she saw the bruises Hashirama had sucked into her littering her skin. Hashirama had truly marked her as his.

She didn’t lie, she really was sore. Still, it felt like Hashirama had been far too kind to her, especially after all she’d done. 

_ Had he felt that way with Mito _ , she wondered helplessly,  _ or was it guilt that drove the two of them forwards _ . Absently, she ran a finger over a rapidly purpling patch of skin, pressing in slightly, as if to remind herself it was still there. The absurdity of the situation hit her again, and a rush of itchy heat rose in a wave to redden her cheeks. She hadn’t planned for this, when she came back. She hadn’t planned to see Hashirama at all. In truth, she had avoided thinking about him at all. 

And yet.

And yet here she was, laying in his bed, surrounded by his scent, covered in dried seed. She supposed that, once upon a time, she’d be humiliated. She still felt that way, but it was so far back in her mind she could brush it away. It was more… bewilderment, she supposed, over anything else. He had still wanted her, wasted away without her, even. And he was coming back for her too, revitalised by sage chakra and so,  _ so  _ alive.

How could she miss him, even now, a lifetime in the past? How could her heart still ache for his touch while he was mere rooms away?

She swallowed the lump of emotions that had suddenly formed in her throat.

_ Does he really want her?  _

She looks down and all she sees is evidence of him. Bruises, scars, all him, always him. Doesn’t it make him angry, to see his old enemy in his bed? Doesn’t it make him want to reopen those old wounds, rip her open scar after scar after scar?

What scares her is that she’d let him. She would let him unravel her, if it meant he was touching her. She would let him rip open her heart again and again and again if it meant he would hold her in his arms. But she knows he’s far too kind, far too bright, far too  _ Hashirama _ to do that to her. Still, she knows she’s a monster, even by ninja standards. After all she’s done, how couldn’t she be? 

_ Does she even deserve to be wanted by him? _

She already knows the answer, a thousand times, echoed back to her from the darkest corners of her mind.  _ No, no, no _ . How could she deserve him, when she tore his dream, his allies, all of the elemental nations apart in her own hands, for a dream that wasn’t even hers in the end? But… despite all the shadows clinging to her skin, he wants her. And for as long as he does, she’ll stay with him. Because she doesn’t deserve Hashirama, but as long as having her will make him happy, she will stay.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to refocus on her purpose of coming here. Staying in the village is not doing Hashirama any good. She would have to take Hashirama with her, start anew. She would give everything all over again to fulfill his wishes, his dreams. And this time she would  _ stay. _ She would be there at his side, as they both figure out this new aspect of their relationship.

She brushed her hand over the flaky remains of last night, biting down a blush that threatened to rise back to her cheeks. She’d had him, he’d taken her, and  _ kami _ , it was bliss.

* * *

Leaving the village was easy. For Madara it was like shedding clothes after a long day. Cleansing, refreshing. To Hashirama it was a little more complicated. Unlike Madara who doesn't have ties binding her there, Hashirama has plenty. His brother, his wife, his clan,  _ his children _ . 

Standing on top of the cliffside, Hashirama took a deep breath. The village sprawling beneath him, slowly being lit by the pre-dawn light. He could feel Madara's stare, heavy with expectations. 

"Are you having regrets?" Madara said as she glanced down the village. 

"Hm." Hashirama grunted. "No. But it is hard turning my back to this place. I have seen it grow, Madara. It was like my child. _ Our child. _ I was there every step of the way. I nurtured it for years and now," he took a deep breath, finally turning his gaze to Madara. "and now it's time to say goodbye." 

Madara smiled at him, understanding his situation. "It is, isn't it? Our first child.” she teased. “I felt the same all those years ago. Knowing that I'm turning my back on you. Leaving you alone to deal with everything that would follow." she lets out a quiet breath. "It  _ is _ hard."

Hashirama let out a breath, turning his face towards the rising sun. Etching the village sprawling beneath them in his mind. "Come, Madara. It wouldn't do to get caught now." 

Madara snorted, "You're the one that wanted to stop here."

"I know." Hashirama said, before resolutely turning his back to the village. Approaching her on quiet footsteps, he wrapped an arm around her and kissed her forehead. "Let's go. It'll be a long journey ahead of us." 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally do the do! Meheheheheh. After thousands of words. XD
> 
> How was it? I'm worried it got too fast skdjfsdnflksdmfls

**Author's Note:**

> YOOO! so that was my first venture into smut world askfdjafnksafdns
> 
> what do you guys think? is it any good? 
> 
> anyway, if you want to go talk and hang out, just drop by my [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/pf39SDd).
> 
> :)))


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